40,000 Expended Shells
by InquisitorMarek
Summary: Miho Nishizumi. Second daughter of the renowned Nishizumi family. Black Sheep. Embarrassment. Her unconventional tactics force her to stick out among a school, a ship so devoted to perfection, and then force her to run. That is how her story begins. How a world burns. And how Emperors, Kings and Gods would tremble at the name Panzerkorps. Slow burn for 40k elements. Have faith.
1. packet1

**Author's Note: Hey, it's been a while. Yeah, I posted an update last November, but not really much since. Well, it's because I tried to do something I couldn't do. I literally can't explain it better than that; I kept re-writing the battle to remove Miho from Kuro, and it just wasn't working. I couldn't put words on the paper in a meaningful way. So in the interest of actually moving ahead with the story like I wanted, I've reworked the intro and hopefully you'll enjoy it. I have not forgotten. I promised to finish this, and I will, Emperor willing or not. Don't forget to rate and review, or drop me a line if you find something out of line. If there's something that doesn't make sense, let me know and I'll answer it in the next update. Which is almost done, by the way. **

++Biometric Scans complete, Homo Sapiens++

++Access Granted++

++Beginning download; packet_1++

Death came for her with the roar of a lion, the clank of metal wheels on metal tracks, and the breath of a dragon. It came from far, far away. It came as the storm gathered its fury, and as thirty engines reduced ancestors to naught but a choking breeze for glory.

Impatient grey eyes watched as the Captain of Kuromorimine's Panzerfahren team, the star attraction of the fight, bowed to the enemy, before bowing herself. Nothing more than a short, curt bow of acknowledgement that she knew her opposite knew she didn't feel. There was no one equal to the might of the Black Forest. _There was no one equal to the might of the Captain._

She straightened herself up, and searched the face of her opposite, the legendary tank commander, executive officer, and the real power behind Katuysha's dictatorship. Nonna the Icicle Sniper.

She almost towered over the young executive officer, looking down at her with disapproving, coal black eyes, cold and calculating. Despite the weather being considerably warmer than what Pravda normally sailed in, Nonna and Katyusha had evidently kept their own winter garb while allowing their troops a slight mercy to doff their iconic fluffy hats and woolen great coats.

Young and old at the same time, Executive officer of Kuromorimine Panzerfahren team, Lieutenant Commander Miho Nishizumi waited (with what passed for patience) for her sister to comeplete the Commander's Ceremony.

Never one for ceremony, Miho's mind had long been made up about traditions and ceremonies before a battle. But, tradition was tradition, and along with her status as the "exalted" black sheep, her grumbles fell on the deaf ears of others.

As the ceremony dragged on, she longed to return to her platoon, which some hundred meters or so to her left, standing impassively in front of their tanks, honor guard ribbons and various medals glowing in the fading sun.

After what seemed to be an eternity, finally the ceremony was over. Meaningless pleasantries and un-meant well-wishes exchanged. Finally. The moment has arrived.

Her sister turns to face her tank commanders, raises a single handed salute, and then brings her entire arm sharply down. The signal has been given. Without looking back, or at any of the other commanders, Miho breaks into a dead sprint for her tank, the designated flag carrier and command tank for the match, a Panzerkampfwagen VI(a). Otherwise known as a "Tiger" Mark One.

Unforuntately, the crew with her on the field today is not the one she has grown to love. They are unfamiliar with the workings of a Tiger, and as such, they've...taken a respite from Panzerfahren at the behest of the Matriarch. So, in their stead the Captain procured the crew to accompany the executive officer.

It's 100mm frontal armor was practically open to Pravda's 85mm rifled guns at any range short of a kilometer and a half. Classified as a heavy tank, it was a classic example of how Kurmorimine liked to appear, regal and purposeful. Fortunately, it's 88mm main gun could devastate any Pravda tank at as soon as the damn things were in sight, and provided the gunner could actually hit it.

And yet, Miho hated it. She hated the way it felt as she clambered up the frontal glacis. She hated the way it looked painted in German battle tan, "4-01" freshly painted on its turret, along with her personal sigil adorning the side.

She hated the inside of the tank; everything was too close, too welcoming, too warm and pleasurable. It was too homey to be a real tank. Yet, it's cannon still barked when she gave the order, and the shells still killed other tanks, so until she had legitimate grievances, she had to let her suspicions lay where they were.

But for all the reasons she hated the tank she was now climbing into, it was the fact that it was the Captain's personal tank was by far the most important. She wanted nothing more than to quit the team, but even that was sacrilegious to talk about, at home, at school, to her friends at school, or even to her elite platoon, now splintered with the introduction of the new crewmembers into their formation. But, as her Grandfather had taught her, any weapon to survive is a useful one indeed; doesn't matter if it's pretty or not.

So quelling the rage in her heart and once more steeling her face and mind for the coming battle, she vaulted smoothly into the commander's hatch and kept her legs clamped together to absorb the impact from landing on the commander's seat, which was far too cushy for her taste. She didn't grab for the headset and microphone adorning the turret wall next to her; she'd brought her own, despite insistences from the Captain.

She slipped on the one remnant from her previous tank and crew running through the pre-battle checklist while she listened to the platoon radio their readiness as they prepared to start their engines. Once it was completed, there was one more order before she could roll the platoon out, and she could smell the anticipation in the air, it was so palpable. _The hounds are getting hungry._

"Captain, fourth platoon awaits the order," Miho flipped the switch that turned her transmission onto the command network.

"Acknowledged Lieutenant," came the Captain's unemotional response. "Wait one."

She didn't have to wait long. "Listen up! All platoons have reported readiness for battle. The order has been given. Light 'em up!"

Immediately, Miho switched to the platoon net and shouted "Fourth platoon! The order is given! HAVOC!"

At the command, each of the drivers waited exactly one second before hitting the ignition switch. While the engines didn't exactly catch simultaneously, the effect wasn't lost. From dead silence to the monstrous roar of promethium burning engines as their stewards coaxed them, revved them, striking fear into the hearts of the unprepared. One by one, the tank commanders of her platoon reported final combat readiness. After all had reported in, Miho sent it up to the Captain.

"Received, Four actual. Revise designation to Mike-six-five pattern. How copy?"

"I copy that crystal clear, Forest Actual."

"Roger," the Captain said before addressing the entire team. "Attention allcon! Listen up! Overall objective is standard match, phase one! Find their lead tank! Designation Woodland will secure southern route, while designations Timber and Pine will take the north. Forest will take remaining elements and hold center. We will break into separate elements at rally point on my mark.

But be wary, Intelligence says the Russians have a new toy. If anything looks out of the ordinary, report it immediately! That is all! For the Matriarch!"

Each tank commander or vox operator radioed in kind, but Miho didn't join in. To her, it wasn't worth it. There were far more important things to do.

"Keep it clean people!" she ordered as one of her sergeants got off some lecherous language.

"Yes sir!" was the universal reply, as their adrenaline surges subsided.

"Woodland Two has point. One has saddle, three has rear guard. I've got rear saddle. Roll out!"

888

The ride to the rally point was uneventful, and with the vox quiet, it left Miho alone with her thoughts to pour over the map attached in front of her hatch. The Captain's plan was sound, as always. And bold. As always. _Nothing but another ordinary battle here,_ she mused sourly. She truly loved being out on the field, the wind in her hair, the comfortable rumble of massive engines beneath her feet. But the rigors of being a celebrity, and demands of this...game, this sport, was just too much when taken as a way of life. She sighed and slipped into the tank. It looked like it was going to start raining.

"Woodland Actual, come in," the vox crackled.

"Woodland Actual, here. Go ahead," Miho immediately replied.

"Be advised, Pine Actual and Pine One are experiencing technical difficulties. Re-tasking Pine Two, Three and Four to your element. How copy?" It wasn't the Captain, but her other executive officer, Erika.

"I copy five by. I'll link up with them at the following grid," she rattled off the appropriate numbers for the largest path that would allow the two formations to meet up on the move.

"Woodland Actual, Woodland Four, Five and Six are on the way."

"Copy. Woodland Actual out."

888

"Gunner! Tango-Three-Four at Ten o clock!" came the shout over the engine. "Range!"

The turret of the Tiger slowly traversed to the left as it rumbled along.

"I've got 'em El-tee! Four clicks away!" the gunner reported.

Miho nodded. "Set to transmit directly to the Captain." She waited a few seconds before depressing the transmit button.

"Forest Actual, this is Woodland Actual. Be advised, I'm tracking a contingent of T-34s about four clicks to the north-west of me, across the river. Looks to be two reinforced platoons, maybe three in size. Over."

"Forest Actual copies, Woodland. Be on the lookout for friendlies moving in from the east to support. Charlie Mike. Out," came the unemotional reply.

Miho popped her head out of the commander's hatch and looked around. Her own reinforced platoon of six tanks was in the same situation it was when she last poked her head out; rolling along a treacherous riverside trail, barely wide enough for the Koenigtiger behind her.

Then the sky overhead let loose another bolt of lightning and round of thunder.

"Woodland Actual to all elements, status report, over," she ordered, standing straight in the cupola, exposing her upper half to the elements and not caring about the skimpy black and red uniform she wore.

"Woodland Two copies, Actual! We're green across the board!" Staff Sergeant Marichia Takara shouted, all smiles as she waved at Miho from the Panzer III leading the reinforced platoon. "Those damn ruskies won't know what hit 'em!"

"Woodland Three copies, Lieutenant. We're five by five. Out," Sergeant Kaname replied from the depths of the massive tank.

"Woodland Four. We're guns up!" One of the twins said. Twin tank commanders of the venerable and adaptable Panzer IV Aufs H's, they were known collectively as "Double Trouble". Miho couldn't remember if Double or Trouble was Woodland Four. Not that it mattered.

"Woodland Five. Up guns we're!" the commander said with a cackle. _Oh, right. Five was Trouble_. The slightly older of the two had a…unique sense of humor.

"Woodland Six here, Lieutenant. Status is green. But be advised, there's dust trails along the river bank, directly to our nine," Sergeant Anna replied. She commanded the Panther at the back of the convoy.

"Copy that. Allcon, be advised. High winds are expected to break a few trees. Don't panic if you see them fall. It's probably _not_ from the 34s to our ten," Miho ordered, and made herself as comfortable in the hatch as it was possible to get.

Her eyes drifted to the rear quarter of the tank as the others reported their compliance. There the damning blue flag flew, marking her tank as the most precious vehicle in the entire formation Kuromorimine was fielding this day. After staring at the offending object for a minute, Miho decided to rejoin the command circuit to listen into anything that Maho might have told everyone else but her.

"-so when we get back, we're meeting up at your place, right?" That was Erika's voice.

"Yes. My mother's prepared everything."

"Anything interesting going on?" Miho asked innocently. She knew exactly what was going on. Another one of the parties no one "knew" went on. Sure they didn't know about them officially, who could approve of giving teens access to drugs and alcohol? And yet, everyone knew about the parties.

"Nope," Ericka replied quickly. "You comin' to the party later tonight?"

"Miho, get off this channel. When I need you to do something else, I will let you know," the Captain interjected before she could think up a snarky enough reply.

"Go blow it out your ass," she growled instead, cut the connection angrily and sat there, brooding.

"You alright up there, Miho?" Marichia asked suddenly.

"Yeah, fine." Miho dropped the angry scowl for guarded neutrality, allowing the anger to simmer just below the surface.

"Good. Because there's something poking through the trees just up river from us. My gut tells me it should look like a tank if you remove the trees. Orders?"

Miho didn't bother asking for a second look. There was something supernatural about the scout's gut feelings. "HALT! Deploy for maximum deflection! Secure the perimeter!"

The crews wasted no time deploying. The Tiger and Panzer III faced upriver, while the Panther faced downriver, and the Koenigtiger did its best not to show the weakened flanks, by squeezing between the Panther and the Tiger. The two Panzer IV's did likewise, protecting their flank of the assault gun, but leaving plenty of space for maneuver.

"Miho, it's definitely a tank. And not one of ours. Looks like a…T-70. _Shit_! It's looking straight at us!"

Miho, along with the rest of her platoon, anxiously waited for the bark of a Russian gun. But none came, and the silence produced a deafening sound all its own.

"This isn't like Katyusha," Miho muttered as she watched the T-70 train its gun on them. Then a thought struck her like a lightning bolt.

She ducked inside, grabbed her magnoculars, and peered off in the distance, at the T-34s moving to the nearest river crossing.

Her thoughts were proved true with the magnocular's powerful magnification level. Miho was able to pick out the little devil sitting atop her tank as she personally led the large force towards the positions where the Captain lay in wait with the rest of the team.

Which meant that she was facing a separate unit entirely. And only one girl was allowed to deviate from Katyusha's command.

Nonna the Icicle Sniper.

"Brace for impact!" Miho shouted as she locked the hatch behind her. Ten seconds later, the barrage began.

At first there was silence. Then, over the din of the engines, something could be heard. Indistinct, yet distinct. Quickly it grew from mere background noise to the howling scream of shells, landing with thunderous wrath among the Panzers.

The powerful shells rocked the Tiger on its suspension like ship in a bad storm. It was all Miho could to do keep from bashing her head against the periscopes around her head.

As the barrage wore on, one shell got lucky. Fired from Nonna's personal tank, and IS-2 heavy, the 122mm shell blew off half of Marichia's riverside tracks and road wheels.

Then a 152mm high explosive shell from the KV-2 also in Nonna's detachment landed on the bank just below Woodland Two.

"Are we sliding?!" Marichia's shriek echoed across the vox. Braving the shrapnel filling the air, Miho threw open the hatch just in time to see the Panzer Mark Three plunge into the river, Marichia's screams for help in her ears.

"COVERING FIRE!" Miho shouted before tearing off her headset and leaping down from the tank in a single bound. She tried to hit the ground correctly, but landed wrong and she went down into the muck hard.

BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!

A quick series of shells exploded around her, and she realized the shitstorm she'd leapt into. And as she picked herself up and forced her ankle to support her weight to run full tilt through the rain, the muck and the shells, she realized she didn't care. Only one thing mattered. Marichia and her crew had to live.

She wouldn't fail. Around her, her platoon thundered, trying to meet this new threat. Shell after shell exploded from cannon barrel.

Over the din, she didn't hear the rending screech as her tank took a shell directly to the turret ring, jamming it. Nor did she hear the crew screaming for orders.

And neither did she hear the screams of the dying.

Scrambling down the slippery bank, her curses went unheard under the weight of another barrage. She felt something hot hit her in the face and immediately felt like it was on fire, but paid it no mind. There was nothing on this Throne-forsaken planet that was going to stop her. Absolutely nothing.

Through the rain and the debris cloud, Miho could just make out the Panzer's turret slipping beneath the waves. A second later, she reached the bank and dove in.

The shock of cold water hit her like a Maus at full speed, chilling her to the bone instantly. In the murk, she saw something moving, almost in the shape of a tank hull.

She pulled hard. Her ankle hurt like hell, her lungs wanted air, but she wanted her friends to live. Damn her own needs, she wouldn't let them just die like this!

"Creed!" someone called. It rang strangely throughout the depths she swam in. Thinking it was Marichia, she continued down. _I have to save her!_ But the voice called out again. "Creed!"

It was closer this time, a little less distorted. Again, she paid it no mind. But try as she might, she wasn't finding the bottom of the river. It was too dark, the pressure was starting to hurt her ears, she needed to breathe, she should just- keep going. And never turn back. Never.

"God damn it Sergeant, wake up!" _Wait. Sergeant? _She wondered. _I haven't been a sergeant ever. Marichia kn_- Then real cold water hit Miho in the face.

++Download packet_1 Complete++

++Thought for the day: Innocence ends when war begins++


	2. packet2

**Author's Note: I told you it was almost done, didn't I? Yes, I did. Now I have to actually get some homework and studying done, so the next one will be out later this week, maybe next Friday. Fret not, even if I don't make that deadline, I have not forgotten this. Nor is this the only project of this caliber I've been working on. **

**You who thought Marcus Thol was dead, cry in shame! For it is he, not Miho, who has taken the majority of my time. Those benefits will be reaped by those of you who are paying attention to all of my stories, not just this one; even if it is the only one currently being updated. **

**So rate and review! My style has changed, and I want to know if I'm still doing it right.**

++Biometric scans complete, Homo Sapiens identified++

++Access Granted++

++Beginning download; packet_2++

Coughing and sputtering, Sergeant Mia Creed, Alpha Detachment Quartermaster, 1st Ooarai Defense Regiment woke from her nightmare coughing, sputtering and cursing. "What the fuck?!"

"Sarge, you were drunk again. I've told you before. You gotta stop this. You're gonna get liver poisoning."

There was a second's pause as Creed got her act together and remembered where she was. She slowly cracked one misty grey eye open and slowly rotated her head to face her.

"...Akiyama?"

"Well, it's better than Monday," Assistant Quartermaster, Corporal Yukari Akiyama sighed as the noncom groaned and began to rub her eyes open. Despite being so new to the Regiment, Creed held a respected rank and was never punished despite having abused it's privileges with abandon.

Yukari ripped the covers off with carefully constrained anger. By some miracle, she was never greeted with sight of Creed's naked form beneath the sheets, no matter how drunk she had been the night previous. The garment comprised a type of athletic shorts and a fitting tank top, both in a repulsive shade of olive drab.

And yet, somehow, Yukari often found herself admiring how Creed pulled off the look. She made the unnatural shade of baby vomit look natural, as if it were literally any other color on the spectrum.

Was it her confidence or the way she let her hair grow to just past regulation length? Her eyes or the shape of her modest, almost unremarkable figure? Or was it that scar? But regardless of the reason, Yukari hated Creed more for it.

"Monday? Then what's-"

"Wednesday."

"Oh balls," Creed huffed and aborted any serious attempt to get up. "Anything new from the Captain?"

"Nope. Except some hangover pills."

"Oh, that busty draconian hardass is _finally_ good for something" Creed said greedily, hands groping about her nightstand for the expected container of foul-tasting pills. "The fuck? Corporal, did you take my medicine?"

"Take? No. I might have..._accidentally_ put it on your desk. Which I should remind you is your assigned duty station at 0800 hours."

"0800? Why am I up at-"

"1300?" Yukari interjected flatly.

"1300!?" Creed gasped and hurled herself out of bed a little too quickly. Fortunately for her, this song and dance wasn't unfamiliar; Yukari already had a bucket waiting to puke into. When she was done some ten minutes later, Creed remarked "Damn, that was the best booze I'd had in weeks. Damn shame to waste."

"What happened to waiting until Friday?" Yukari asked bluntly as she handed her a canteen, trying to hide her building temper. "You probably wouldn't have wasted it then."

"Friday? Don't get your hopes up," Creed said with as much of a self satisfied smile as she could manage. "I got plans."

_Of fucking some other hapless girl once she's drunk enough._ "Have you no shame?" She demanded. "You're the Detachment's Quartermaster! You're supposed to be punctual, as infallible as the equipment you maintain! And you're nothing but a disgraceful slob! How dare you wear this uniform!"

Creed's face fell immediately and her voice took on a quality Yukari had never heard before. A tone that commanded obedience."I know what I'm supposed to be, Corporal. And I know what you're supposed to be. At your duty station. I'll be there in ten, no later than fifteen. Dismissed."

Yukari felt chills run laps around her back, but Creed's tone allowed for only way to reply, and it wasn't how she normally did it.

"Ma'am! Yes, ma'am!" she said, snapping a crisp salute before briskly walking out of the sparse barracks and began to make her way to their duty station on the other side of the depilated building.

On the way back, she wasn't her normal self. She didn't curse the very name of Creed, nor did she come up with new and inventive ways to protest her behavior or try to change it. Instead, the noncom's commanding voice filled her head and sent chills back down her spine. The instant transformation, the way her hangover seemed to disappear from her consciousness, like the re-kindling of a determination.

Why would someone with such gifts just abandon them? Why live a life of lechery, of debauchery when she could be so much more? Yukari shook her head. She couldn't fathom it. It had been her sense of duty and desire to protect that had guided her hobbies. Which is why her bedroom at her parent's house had been devoted to the King of Battle, the mighty Panzer, and the premier training program known as Panzerfahren.

Just thinking the name brought up unpleasant memories and a deep despair threatened to resurge. With desperation fueling her efforts, she focused on the hate she held for Creed and the work load she had to do to keep this forsaken post in operation.

When she finally arrived a little worse for wear, she sat at the well worn secretary's desk and just then Captain Kawashima chose that moment to barge in and park herself before the luckless Corporal.

"I have limited time, Corporal Akiyama. Do you meant to waste it?" she demanded.

"Uh, no ma'am. What can-"

"Then where the hell were you ten minutes ago when I walked in?" her voice was quiet, calm and collected, yet the malice practically paraded behind it made Yukari shiver. This wasn't going to go over very well. _Damn you Creed. Damn you to the depths of whatever hell you came from!_

888

The door shut behind Corporal Akiyama, and Miho Nishizumi breathed a sigh of frustration. It didn't take a genius to see that her subordinate held her at about the same level as a pile of dog shit, and despite it, the girl kept trying to get her to sober up. Yes, she deserved credit, but _Throne above_ was she a pain in the ass.

Miho gingerly stood and eyed the cupboard where the rest of her booze stash was and grimaced. Friday. She had to find a bottle of Lavaquilla before Friday. Otherwise Yuzu would be mad at her, and things were already rocky enough as it was. Four months. Terra, had it really been four months?

"Yes, it has. Glad to see you're settling in." The wizened and confident voice behind her was accompanied by familiar cherry scented cigar smoke. Immediately, her hand drifted to the one reminder of her past life. A tarnished solid gold pendant forged half a galaxy away, hanging from a chain made from a metal mined from a planet at the center of the galaxy. A good luck charm from another universe. A reminder of what was actually out there.

"Gramps," she acknowledged the grizzled old man, as she stepped out of her goddamn Ooarai Defense Regimental-Issue jammies and searched for a clean pair of socks. "I was beginning to wonder if I was ever going to hear from you."

"Well, it's not like my necklace is a one way vox card." She didn't need to turn around to hear the shrug in his voice. "But I do apologize. Things...came up."

"Abaddon?"

"Abaddon."

"How bad?"

"On a scale from a grox bite to exterminatus, exterminatus would have been the less painful option. But that's not an option on Cadian soil."

"I..I'm sorry."

"They died for the Emperor," he said with weary but solid conviction, "And with their sacrifices, the Archenemy was denied. There is nothing to be sorry for."

"How's Uncle Kell?"

"You'll know soon enough," he said cryptically. He was a stocky man, solidly built, and every inch of him screamed military commander to the casual observer. His normally pressed uniform was now rumpled, torn, even stained in places. His chest of medals had a line missing from top to bottom-ish. The figured she spoke to wasn't actually there though; he was entirely a spectral, almost neon, blue and Miho could see the wall of the hanger behind him.

"Right now, I want to talk about what's going on with you."

"What about with me?"

"What have you learned about your mother and sister?" he asked.

"My..." her voice faltered as she tried to come up with an excuse. There wasn't any. "...time here wasn't the best spent."

"You've got amseac in the cabinet behind you, don't you?" he asked, disappointment flattening out any parental affection in his voice.

"A few bottles."

"120 proof?"

"150," she said with a wince.

"Well, you should know that a Chaos battlefleet is on its way. With the tides of the Warp the way they are, they will be here within a year, maybe two, maybe six months. Barring anything short of a miracle, the planet will die. I hope you have enjoyed your drunken debauchery, because either you quit now or you're going to die with the rest of the planet."

She felt a splitting headache coming on, and it wasn't from the booze. "I really don't need this shit right now," she growled.

"Fine." his voice was solid adamantium now, cold and unyielding. When she faced him, his eyes burned with a passion she'd only ever seen once before. "If you will act like this, then you are no better than the rest of your family. I thought you better. I _taught_ you better."

This stoked her temper into a blaze. "Oh, you taught me better? I hardly call what you did _teaching_. I will act how the fuck I fucking want to, damn you and your fucking war!" Quick as a flash, her hand whipped into the weapon belt beside her bunk and came out with her service pistol pointed at the Warp specter. "Now get out. And don't come back."

The cold anger in Ursakar Elarian Creed's still even voice would haunt her in the months to come. "Then you do not deserve my name. Pray to your heathen god we never meet."

And with that he was gone, like he had never been there to begin with. But that didn't change the overwhelming feeling of sorrow mixed with loneliness and rage. Her last bastion of hope had crumbled, and at her own hands.

With a cry of rage, she whipped the pistol across the room, where it stuck itself in the dry wall separating her room from the rest of the hanger. "GOD DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!" she cursed as loud as she could before slumping to her knees on the floor. Yes, she felt better, but Akiyama would be asking questions about that later. Maybe she could pass it off as pent up rage at her own stupidity. Yeah. Seemed like something Mia would do.

"Sergeant." That voice. That hate. "Care to explain why you were absent at your assigned duty post?"

Behind the scowling visage of Captain Kawashima, she saw the cowering form of Akiyama and sighed. She had it coming. "I believe you already have the story. I'll accept whatever the Corporal said as truth."

"You will not! I want it in your own words _Creed_!" the Captain sneered. "And if I have to manually extract it, then damn it all, that's exactly what I'll do!"

"Fuck you. I trust the Corporal. Unless you mistrust her as well."

"I don't know whether or not to believe your fitness reports. They seem an awful lot like the Corporal's inventory reports. Which you should have been doing."

"They're done, aren't they? I taught well enough to handle it then."

"Corporal. That true?" the Captain's sudden switch made the poor Corporal jump.

"Ma'am! Yes ma'am!" she snapped to attention. "Sergeant Creed taught me how to the inventory reports in great detail after she arrived, ma'am!"

The Captain's scowl deepened. "Scheming little..." she trailed off and growled viscously. "Why did we have to get saddled with the shit kid of Kuro?"

And with that, Miho saw red and felt vertigo before blacking out.

888

Miho only dimly remembered being dragged between two people as she woke up in a spartan jail cell. And even more foggy was why she felt like shit in the first place. "What the hell?"

"About time you woke up."

"Akiyama?" she asked. Well, at least there was someone here she could depend on. "What the hell happened?"

"You assaulted a superior officer.

"The Captain?"

"...yes."

"Did I kick her ass?" Miho asked hopefully.

"Not really, but you made good account of yourself," she said. _Her face. Something was off about it._ Miho thought to herself.

"So why am I in here? It's not like this was the first time I punched that bitch." Miho asked, knowing she wasn't going to like the answer.

"On top of your other demerits, the President has decided to have you stand trial."

"A court martial you mean?" Miho asked with resignation. Then it hit her.

"No," the Corporal's face was almost glowing despite her carefully neutral expression. "A trial. You've already been removed from the Regiment."

"Are you happy now, Akiyama?" she asked quietly, as her eyes fell to the floor. She had to make her own choices now. Nothing already decided for her, this was all her own now. With her decree, the President had declared her unworthy of her protection anymore. And Miho could hardly blame her.

"I...don't understand," Akiyama said carefully.

"It doesn't matter. I just hope you find everything you desire," Miho said quietly. Did her Grandfather visit her? Was it another dream? Her head hurt too much.

"Oh. Um...thank you?" Akiyama said awkwardly, before almost coming to attention. It was in the way her legs convulsed. _She'll go far_, Miho thought, _she might even reach command level one day_. Good instincts too. "I'll take my leave now. The trial is about to start."

"Alright."

The Corporal just looked at her former superior with a mixture of what? Curiosity? Pity? She wanted this to happen, and it was coming. So it came, Miho said internally. There wasn't anything she could do to make her situation better. Not without the President's support. And if the President knew of this, that meant Yuzu did too.

Miho's head dipped lower towards the floor. Terra, she really had screwed up. Who would have thought that a daughter of the Nishizumi family would fall so low?

Her pained laughter echoed down the empty halls of the jailhouse.

888

When they came for her, it was mid afternoon of the fourth day. The post-school rush was in full swing, cars honking noisily and people bustling about under the din.

She lay on her bunk, now clad in the prisoner's drab yellow leotard. She was thinking of how she would deal with outside life when she heard them. Boots, her mind registered. But why? It's right after school the President should still be in her uniform. _Along with Yuzu,_ Miho's aching heart wrenched at the mental image of Vice President's face twisted in feigned happiness. The clomping of the boots stopped and the door to her cell clanged before it squeaked open.

"Sergeant Mia Creed?" a stern voice asked, one that Miho had almost forgotten.

"Isobe? Is that you?" she asked, bringing herself to a sitting position just in time to catch a bundle of clothes and to see the two girls she'd dubbed as "subbies" carry in her personal arms locker. "What's going on?"

The Captain of Delta Detachment didn't immediately reply, despite the shock evident on everyone's face. To her own credit, she waited until the subbies had gone before speaking."There's a truck that's going to be here in ten minutes. Get dressed and loaded for HR."

"Isobe, what the fuck is going on?" Miho demanded, stripping off the leotard and stepping into a set of cargo pants clearly taken from her room. The short Captain ran a hand through her hair and struggled to get the words formed.

"Twenty minutes ago, a small terrorist band attacked the mall complex and is holding hostages. They're lightly armed, but they know what they're doing. They've barricaded themselves in the librarium in the lowest level and are demanding that we release a captive we've been holding for some time unlawfully."

"Okay. Not standard, but then again, terrorists ain't the normal type," she said, trying to keep the shock from preventing her lacing up her boots and shrugged on her combat jacket before punching in the code on the weapons trunk. "Who's the prisoner?"

"Kawashima wouldn't say. The President just looked at me hard and said to get your ass in gear."

"And the Vice?"

"She looked like she was about to cry." At least she's handling this like normal, Miho was able to breathe easy and let her heart to rest for a moment. "Who are the hostages?"

"Candidates for the Panzerfahren team."

"WHAT?!" Miho almost dropped the magazine she was loading into her pistol. "What the fuck?"

"It happened a day or two ago," Isobe said casually, "The President said we need to bring some pride back into our school. So that's how we're going to do it."

"And why is it important that they're candidates for the program?"

"Because we identified their captors."

"Okay. Gimmie faces and names," Miho said. Subconsciously, her voice was regaining her lost sense of command.

"Well, one of them. And by her, we got who they're working for."

"They're working for someone? Who would ally themselves with a terror cell openly?" Miho asked as she buckled her ballistic vest before filling it with magazines for the suppressed MP5 inside.

"That bitch, the Matriarch."

Another shock. Another pause in what she was doing. "You're absolutely sure that's the puppet master?" Miho asked.

"Yes. Beyond a doubt. Kuromorimine has officially denounced them as a renegade group, but we've got our doubts."

"And you're right to have them. Any of the captors named Maho or Erika?" Miho asked, venom evident in her voice.

"Not that I know of. The one we identified was a tanker reported to have died in the finals match last year, shortly before we popped you out. Marichia Takara."

++Download complete, packet_2++

++Thought for the day: A mind in distress finds comfort in being more horrible than its enemy++


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